


In My Arms

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: The Space Between the First and Last Breath [15]
Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Hugging, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani Needs a Hug, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Needs a Hug, Tumblr Prompt, and he gets it, and too gets it, like all the hugging, that's all this is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26723968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: 20 hugs in 20 ficlets from my tumblr.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: The Space Between the First and Last Breath [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947598
Comments: 7
Kudos: 84





	1. Happiest

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts found here: https://mysunfreckle.tumblr.com/post/172214982206/hug-prompts

Nicky gazed out the window that overlooked the busy cobblestone streets below. Even from this high up he could hear the bustling sounds of the market, the vendors yelling and laughing with one another, the people jostling past each other, the occasional tourist looking just a little bit dazed in the hot morning sun. He had been standing there for nearly twenty minutes, leaning on the kitchen counter, the dishes long since done, as he simply took in the familiar sights and sounds of home.

It was a strange claim to make, a fact that he knew very well. Nicky knew the connection he felt to Italy on a whole was messy and inaccurate to his upbringing, yet whenever they came here, he couldn’t help the way his heart would swell with fondness.

His mind was already made up that they should spend another week here before meeting up with the others in Russia, they wouldn’t mind. Nicky was just composing how to suggest that very thing when two strong arms wrapped tightly around his stomach, a line of familiar heat pressing against his back.

“Buongiorno,” Joe murmured as he nuzzled into his neck, voice all deep timber and morning roughness.

A shiver went through Nicky at the sensation of his beard scratching his neck and he knew Joe felt it because he briefly tightened his arms, humming softly. Unable to keep the smile off his face, Nicky wrapped his arms around the ones holding him and leaned back firmly into Joe’s hold.

This, he decided, was pure bliss.

“Ant tabdin jamilat alyawm.”

“You must still be asleep,” Nicky teased only for Joe to pinch him in silent admonishment.

“You always look beautiful Nicolò.”

Knowing better then to set Joe off on one of his flattering if exhausting speeches, Nicky simply hummed his agreement, allowing their conversation to slip away as they both watched the street below. There was something achingly domestic about it and Nicky found himself trying to commit this moment to his memory, for as long as time allowed it.

“You’re happiest here, aren’t you?”

Nicky shook his head, “I’m happiest with you, where does not matter.”

That earned him a kiss, pressed firmly to his temple, “and you call me the romantic one.”


	2. Where we Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sleepy hug <3

Joe let out a low, aggravated sigh from where he was curled up in the bed, a pillow clutched uselessly in his arms. He was tired, exhausted really and had spent the better part of their day, dreaming of collapsing on this too small mattress, with his lover all around him. Instead, he was left in cold sheets, glaring at the open door of the bedroom.

Nicky and Andy’s voices had drifted off into silence nearly thirty minutes ago and he had been certain he’d be joined, yet here he was. Joe knew after a long day of travel it took Nicky longer to settle then most of them, that he was likely curled up by the window, gun at his side, book in his hands, utterly unaware he was being waited on.

In theory, this was perfectly fine because eventually Nicky would grow tired enough to come to bed but tonight, Joe wanted him here, at his side. Despite Nile’s teasing, he was a grown man and more then capable of falling asleep on his own, in fact he’d even gone months without Nicky’s familiar presence but sometimes…like tonight, it was unbearable.

They had been on the run for the better part of a week, leaving them to rotate at night, one eye always on the door and windows and inevitably, Nicky’s shift would last longer then the others because he simply wasn’t tired. Being in a constant state of high alert was exhausting at the best of times and now that they were safe, in a place nobody would find them, Joe felt as though he’d earned the reprieve that came from his lover’s body against his.

Finally, tired of waiting, he rolled out of bed, mindful of the few creaky floorboards that might wake Nile and Booker. They had been fast asleep for the better part of three hours and he was sorely tempted to make them understand his suffering. Nicolò wouldn’t forgive him though.

He trudged into the living space, blinking rapidly in the light from the lamps, a grimace already twisting his lips. Andy was laying on the couch, a pillow beneath her head and a blanket thrown haphazardly over her body, clearly Nicky’s doing. As he moved past, she lifted one eyelid and upon meeting his eyes, the corner of her mouth lifted, amused at his suffering.

Shaking his head, Joe made a beeline for his lover. As he had expected, Nicky was engrossed in a thick book with no title on its cover, the pages old and crinkled, his finger moving swiftly, lips following in unison, the only clue that it was not in Italian.

He looked beautiful, sitting on that simple kitchen chair, dark shadows beneath bright, curious eyes. Absolutely perfect but for his absence at Joe’s side, something he would remedy shortly. Nicky looked up when he got a closer, tensing subtly for a split second before recognizing Joe, and then his brows furrowed, concerns bleeding from his lovely eyes.

Joe smiled because how could he not in Nicolò’s presence?

“Joe? Is everything alright?”

“No.”

The tension was back like a whip, “what’s wrong?”

Still smiling, Joe reached out and took Nicky’s hand and waited while his lover placed the book on the table before pulling him to his feet. Without another word, Joe gathering Nicky into his arms, and tucked his face decidedly in his neck, inhaling deeply, before releasing it with a contented sigh.

Nicky chuckled softly, his arms coming up to rest on Joe’s waist, holding him close. They stood there for a very long moment, and Joe would be lying if he didn’t say his eyelids had started to droop, simply by his lover’s presence alone. This was the most comfortable place on earth, and he would surely have to compose yet another poem to describe it tomorrow.

“Very well,” Nicky murmured, his voice thick with fondness. “I suppose its time for bed.”


	3. Another's Arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Surprise hug (ish)

Nicolò died with sand in his mouth and stuck in his eyes, he died with a sharp pain in his back and the echo of a rage-fueled scream in his ears. It was not the first or even eight time he had felt consciousness ebb and the warmth of his blood spill down his body, but it was the first time it was at someone else’s hand besides Yusuf.

He lay there, eyes firmly shut against the stinging while he listened to the clash of blades not far from him. It had been nearly two years since that fateful day in Jerusalem when death had refused to take him, since he had to face his sins and that of his faith…since he found Yusuf and knew what it was to witness the beauty of the soul.

Over the course of many nights they had discussed the particulars of their curse or gift, had wondered what it would take to finally grant them peace. Nicolò could not count the times they had circled around to the possibility that it was only each other that kept them from death, that should someone else kill them, they might be released.

Nicky had yearned for it.

Yet, as the days marched on, they stumbled into scuffles with bandits and villagers, they kept each other alive through unspoken agreement. Now, that yearning had dried up into something small and afraid, turning his gut and making him wish to remain by Yusuf’s side, not to abandon the man who’d become a friend, who he loved in privacy.

The heat from the desert sun no longer seemed to reach his skin and the sound of Yusuf’s voice, no longer angry but loud and desperate faded far into the back of his mind. Nicolò prayed, for the first time in too long, that now would not be his time either.

When Nicolò came back it was with a gasp and the sensation of strong arms around him. Confusion rippled across his mind, unable to recall how he ended up in Yusuf’s lap and what could have possibly caused his tear-streaked face.

“Nicolò?”

Nodding hesitantly, he cast his eyes to the side and found three bodies strewn across the sand, their blood crusted and glistening on their faces, their hands. Memory rushed through him, the arrow in his back, the fear that had overcome him as life seeped from his body.

“Nicolò? Are you alright?” Yusuf’s voice drew his gaze back and he found his wide eyes staring at him with uncertainty and a slight tremor to the edges of his mouth. “Please Nicolò, speak to me.”

His tongue felt clumsy and thick so instead of forcing out the words a slow smile spread over his lips, causing the shadows in his companion’s face to flee. A weak laugh escaped Yusuf as his arms suddenly tightened, yanking Nicolò into a crushing hug against his chest.

Surprise moved through him, having never been as close to Yusuf as this, to realize just how afraid the other man had been of losing him. Warmth stirred in his gut as he hugged him back, clinging to him unashamedly, “I suppose this means we truly cannot die.”

The revelation would be disturbing later, would certainly leave them reeling with the implication but in that moment, the only thing Nicolò could think of, the only thing he could hear, was the sound of Yusuf’s voice, rough and impassioned just like when he prayed, whispering into his ear over and over again, “thank you, Allah, thank you.” 


End file.
